Away From Me
by Kirachu
Summary: A face from the past has always haunted Tsuzuki...
1. Chapter One

**Away From Me**  
**by Kira (kirabop@hotmail.com)**

**Author's Notes:** Brought on by certain parts of the manga that made me raise an eyebrow and form a story in my mind. This takes place after the Kyoto arc, but then switches views to another point in time, and then switches back to the present, so to speak. 

Warnings for some serious angst and a lack of continual updates because I am lazy and my inspiration is always fleeting. ^^;; 

Thanks to Gaki and Ruby StarD for betaing. 

--------

_I know the truth now  
I know who you are  
And I don't love you anymore  
_

Never was and never will be  
You don't know how you betrayed me  
And somehow you've got everybody fooled  


Never was and never will be  
Not for real that you can save me  
And somehow now you're everybody's fool  
**--- Evanescence "Everybody's Fool"**

--------

**Chapter One**

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." 

Those with faith placed their fates within the hands of an unseen God. Those that believed that there was something beyond life and there was an eternal world waiting for them on the other side, lifted their hands up and accepted his graces. Those that had faith did not fear death. For it was those people that believed that there was more to life than a simple existence, that they had been placed on this Earth for a reason, and that when their lives ended, that was when they would truly begin to live. 

Those with faith were often blind. They had only the book of God to teach them. They had only a priest standing before a congregation speaking from the great book to tell them that there was more to life, that someone was watching over them. Some would have thought them ridiculous. Some would have thought their faith pathetic. But in the end, it was something to be admired. 

They could not see their God. They could only believe the words of their book and priest. That was what faith was. To place belief in something that might not be there at all. To believe unconditionally, without evidence, that such things beyond the mortal coil did exist, that there _was_ something more out there. 

Faith was blind, but those with it had no fear. They knew that there was something waiting for them beyond life. They knew that there was always someone watching over them. They knew that there was more to life, a reason they had been placed on the Earth. They could not see it. But they believed it, unconditionally, blindly, devotedly. 

"It has been six months since my last confession." 

The Christians were persecuted in Japan and sought refuge in the churches. Some had come to the Oura Cathedral in Nagasaki. It was beautiful. Its face was turned toward the city, its backside to the ocean that stretched out behind it. 

They were oppressed, treated like dogs, because they placed their faith in hands of an unseen god, different from the hands of another unseen god. No one was in the right or the wrong. No one knew which belief was the truth, if any of them were truths at all. But people fought bloody wars over different faiths, killed because of different beliefs, slaughtered into nations of people because they did not believe the same thing. 

People believed that it was such a sin. 

The masses for the morning had ended at the Oura Cathedral. Some people still lingered. Those that volunteered at the church were sweeping or mopping the floors, others were polishing the organ pipes. The altar boys were cleaning up after the last mass, that had ended moments before. The priest had retired for the evening, into his own chambers, only to be called out to confession. 

A screen separated the two men. The man that had sinned, and the man that would listen to his confession. 

"Has it been six months?" asked the Father. 

"Yes, Father Black." 

The priest was a man of mixed descent. He had been born in America, though his mother was Japanese. There he had attended private Catholic school and decided as a teenager that he wanted to become a priest to help others. He had come to Japan as a young man, to serve as a sort of apprentice to the former priest of the Oura church. When that man passed away, he had been ordained as a priest, and took the position as his own. 

He knew the man sitting before him well. Once, he had come often to confession. But as the years wore on, his visits became more disjointed. It was as though he was trying to hide something. 

And he was. Father Black had known the man for nearly forty years, in his entire time serving as a priest at the Oura cathedral. The Father before him had known the man as well. They both knew what secret it was he tried to guard with his life, what had made the visits become more disjointed. The man was not normal. He was not even human. 

He never aged. In the time Father Black had known him, he was eternally a healthy, attractive twenty-six year old man. No lines of age appeared around his eyes or mouth. There was never a strand of silver running through his dark hair. He never changed, not after five years, not after ten years. He was always the same. 

Dead people rarely did change. 

"Will you hear my confession?" 

Father Black raised a hand, making a gesture to indicate for him to continue speaking. 

He told him his confession. There was a young boy, only thirteen. He had been an only child, adored by his parents. He was not very popular at school, but he had several close friends that meant the world to him. His grades had been excellent. He played on the school soccer team. An ordinary boy, with years of life ahead of him to live. 

He had leukemia. But he struggled with his disease, fought through it, and had been able to be like any other child in the world, playing sports and joking with his friends, attending class and making the grades. 

He had a relapse. His parents rushed him to the hospitals; the doctors rushed him through treatment. He remained there for a month, struggling to live, fighting the disease. When his parents had nearly lost all hope, something of a miracle happened. He began to gain his strength back. He was able to do things completely on his own again. The hospital staff was often subjected to having him running up and down the corridors, kicking a soccer ball. He was perfectly healthy. They thought, for a moment, he would be able to beat the disease. 

But that was not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to die. His candle of life had flickered out, yet he still continued to live. It was not his pre-determined fate. It was not the destiny that had been designed for him. 

So the man sitting across from Father Black, confessing, had killed him. 

There was a girl, beautiful, but sad. She had never had any friends growing up, not through grade school, not through any grade. She was always alone, with not a friend to lean on, and only a sickly mother as her companion. 

She had met a young man. Kind and wonderful, attending college and hoping to become a doctor someday. She had fallen in love with him. But there was a hold-up at a drug store not far from where she lived. He had been there, picking up the prescription of her mother's medicine. He was caught in the cross fire of bullets. 

Unable to accept his death, she had taken a razor blade to her wrists. But her soul was unable to move on, tormented by the death of the man she loved, and the responsibility she felt for her sick mother. She was unwilling to move on, to leave her mother alone with no one to care for her. She wanted more than anything to stay. 

But she could not. The dead were not meant to interact with the living. 

So the man sitting across from Father Black had taken her soul. 

"Asato," Father Black interrupted, gently. "What is it that you are looking for when you come here and confess to me?" 

The young man shook his head. "I have committed so many wrongs in my life," he said softly. 

"Do you expect forgiveness?" 

"No." His eyes shifted, fell to his hands. He had beautiful eyes, the color of amethyst. Shining violet eyes, like the stained windows of the church that spilled multi-colored light to the floor in jagged, twisted shapes. 

"The only ones who can give me forgiveness are dead," he said quietly. 

"You must forgive yourself before others will forgive you." 

But it was not his forgiveness that mattered to him. The guilt that he felt for his sins would always stay with him. It was an unbearable pain, but a pain he was gradually learning to accept and live with. There were too many people he was close to that would not forgive him if he tried to find a way away from his guilt -- he had tried that once, and he could never do it again. And so his guilt remained to go hand in hand with living. 

It was their forgiveness that was important. He would not be able to believe that what he did was right, that it was his job, until he knew that they understood and accepted it. But until then he would live with his guilt, continuing to seek redemption and forgiveness for all that he had done. 

"God works in strange ways," Father Black said. "But He has a plan for all of us, and a meaning to all that He does." 

"What god would want a child to die? What god lets children die?" 

Father Black smiled gently. "There is not a person in the world does not question that. Even those that have placed their faith in their beliefs and their God all their lives." He shifted slightly, folding his arms across his middle. "But you, Asato, you are not even of this religion, yet you continually seek me out." 

"I... needed someone to talk to. Father Tojo never sent me away, even though I am not..." 

"Nor will I. I just find it curious that here is where you seek salvation." 

He knew no where else to go. He had never had a faith. His sister had read to him from the Bible at times, but never preached to him -- simply shared the stories. He had always found them fascinating. But a religion, that he had never been able to find. Those with faith he admired, but he found there was no place for it in his life. 

It was when the guilt had become so overwhelming that he had to seek out someone. He had found Father Tojo. The man never questioned him, only listened to his confessions, and would give him guidance. Father Black was the same. 

"Asato, you say you want forgiveness from all these people, over all these years. But... I think that you are looking for forgiveness from some_one_." 

He lifted his head sharply, amethyst eyes piercing through the screen separating them. 

"Is that so?" Father Black asked. 

His gaze fell, thick eyelashes veiling his eyes. The people he wronged were strangers. The people he killed he had never known. He never knew their families. He knew only the circumstances surrounding their deaths. Only what he was supposed to do. Kill if they had succeeded their pre-destined life limit, or guide their souls to the land of the dead. That was what he was to do. 

But the people he knew and he cared for, those people that he had wronged... what of their forgiveness? 

He had always tried to banish the memory of that person from his mind. But it always came flooding back to him. Images of crystal eyes, of blood, of hands on him, caressing him; images of fire and destruction. Voices in his head, screams of pain, quiet whispers, promises that were always broken. Flooding back until the memories were overflowing, overlapping, and he couldn't breathe. 

_Forgive me._

_I did what I had to do._

"Perhaps you should seek that person's forgiveness," Father Black said. 

"That person is dead," was the soft response. "I will never have his forgiveness." 

A rustle of movement came from the other side of the screen, the shift of a jacket across the fabric of the cushioned seat, and the sound of hands being pressed into pockets. 

"Thank you, Father, for your time." 

"Take care, Asato. No one deserves to live in such pain." 

He bowed his head to the Father and turned away. The door to the confession booth opened easily. He stepped out of the darkness of the confessional into the well-lit church. Light filtered in through the stained glass windows. A beautiful piece of art was made from the glass, depicting the crucifixion of Christ. The light spilled out onto the main aisle, covering it in a warm pool of light. He had once met a man there, kneeling in that space. It seemed almost a distant memory now. 

A few devoted members of the congregation were kneeled in the aisles, hands clasped together in silent prayer. He had never prayed before. He confessed his sins to the Father, but never prayed to the God that was supposedly forgiving of all deeds. 

He was not sure what he believed. But since he was dead, it hardly mattered where he placed his faith. He already knew that there was a world beyond that of the living. 

People confessed their sins and stepped outside of the church feeling as though a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. He stepped outside of the Oura church and felt as though another had been dropped. Why had he been so stupid to begin thinking about him . . . he had thought that he had finally accepted and moved on from that. The memories still lingered in his mind, but he had people in his life now he was not willing to allow the past to hold him back from. 

He had tried for so long to banish those memories from his mind, he had not realized that trying so hard was what kept them there. Eventually he just stopped thinking. He had focused on his work, and gradually, thought less and less of the traumatic memories, until finally it was just another flickering memory in the back of his mind. Something that had barely touched him. Someone that had barely meant a thing to him. 

It was a lie, but it was how he was able to survive. That time would never leave him. That person would never be gone from his mind. But he had to try and live without the memory. He had to, for the sake of someone that cared for him, and he cared for in return. 

"Tsuzuki!" 

He lifted his head. Standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the church was his younger partner, the one that had a hand in all of his wrong-doings. The one that stood by his side through it all. The one that pulled him back the edge when he had wanted to dive over. The one that he had to live for. He could not hurt him like he had before. 

He had not realized in that moment how selfish he had been. 

Kurosaki Hisoka. He had thought him irritating in the beginning, unable to listen to advice, unwilling to do as he was told. Another stubborn kid with an attitude problem. 

His opinion had quickly changed. Hisoka was a stubborn kid, he did have an attitude problem, but there was more once the surface was scratched. They had worked together for a year and a half now, the longest time period he had ever been able to keep a partner. They had to be doing something right. 

"You said to meet at the restaurant." Hisoka folded his arms. They both had a habit of standing each other up. But instead of letting it slide by, Hisoka always annoyed by it, and Tsuzuki always hurt. 

Tsuzuki smiled at him as he began the trek down the flight of stairs. "Sorry, I had some stuff I wanted to take care of." He skipped the last two steps and landed with a thump beside Hisoka. His younger partner rolled his eyes, but didn't seem interested in pressing the topic further. 

"They haven't got any new assignments for us yet," he said. "So we're free for awhile." 

"Ah, good." Tsuzuki stretched out his arms behind his head. "I've been needing a good break." 

"Don't get too comfortable. It's probably not going to last long." 

Hisoka unfolded his arms from his waist and tucked his hands carefully into the pockets of his jeans. His shoe scrapped across the pavement. Tsuzuki had always watched him in the beginning of their partnership, his gestures, his careless movements, studying them and learning what they meant. Hisoka always rolled his eyes when he was irritated, or thought that his older partner was being ridiculous. He ran his fingers through his hair when he was being nonchalant. He picked at the knee of his jeans when he was bored. 

He scrapped the ground with his shoes when he was uncomfortable. 

"What's up?" Tsuzuki asked. 

"Something's bothering you." 

Not a question, but a statement. Hisoka always knew when something was. It was not only his empathy, but the connection he and Tsuzuki shared. Sometimes, he never needed to depend on his empathy to know what Tsuzuki was feeling. 

"What were you doing in the church?" 

"I need a mocha," Tsuzuki declared, and before Hisoka could stop him, he had began walking down the winding path leading away from the church toward the nearest café. 

"H-hey! Don't ignore me!" 

Hisoka had to run to catch up with the long strides Tsuzuki was taking. When he finally did, he was out of breath, and glaring up at Tsuzuki only resulted with an amused smile from the older man. He let out an irritated sigh and looked away. 

The café was almost empty. A handful of teenage girls were the only other patrons. They looked up from their muffins and cappuccinos when Tsuzuki and Hisoka entered, exchanges glances, and giggled. Hisoka felt his cheeks tinge pink despite his best efforts to stop them. The girls were speaking in hushed whispers about them, but as teenage girls went, a hushed whisper was the loudest scream. Some of their comments even had Tsuzuki raising an eye. 

He stepped up to the cashier and ordered himself a caramel mocha. He gave Hisoka a nudge with his elbow. 

"What do you want?" 

"Um." Hisoka tore his eyes away from the girls. "Whatever you're having." 

"Whoa, really? Sugar, even? Caffeine? What's wrong with you?" 

Hisoka glared. "Shut up, Tsuzuki." 

Tsuzuki grinned, but stopped teasing him long enough to place the order. He also snatched himself up an enormous chocolate chip muffin to snack on, and with a bit of prodding, was able to convince Hisoka to get an equally enormous blueberry muffin. With their drinks and food in hand, they went outside to sit down at one of the patio tables. 

Hisoka picked off one of the blueberries from his muffin and flicked it to the pigeons dancing around their table, hoping for a scrap to eat. "Are you going to keep ignoring me?" he demanded. 

"I might." 

Hisoka flicked one of the blueberries at his head. It bounced off his forehead and an eager pigeon gobbled it up. 

"Ouch." Tsuzuki whimpered and rubbed his forehead. Hisoka looked away, irritated. As though a blueberry hurt as much as a brick barreling into his head. 

"I was confessing." 

Hisoka looked up at him. "You were what?" 

"Confessing," Tsuzuki repeated. "I've done it for awhile. It helps, to have someone to talk to that will listen and won't judge. You know?" 

Hisoka nodded his head, though he was not sure if he did understand. He would never be able to go to a complete stranger and unload all of his woes. Maybe it was because he was a private person. Tsuzuki was not. He shared his feelings with everyone. Not always the ones that mattered, like when he was hurting or needed help, but he was quick to tell you he was hungry or bored, or he thought you were being mean, or any other number of things. 

Maybe it was easier to tell a stranger the things he couldn't share with anyone else. 

"I always wonder if there is a penance we must pay as Shinigami," Tsuzuki murmured. "But until I find out, I can only seek forgiveness in the only way I know how." 

"By confession?" Hisoka asked, still a little more than confused. 

Tsuzuki smiled. "It's one way." 

Hisoka picked away another blueberry. "I guess so." 

Tsuzuki watched as the pigeons scrabble over the blueberry. They were so occupied with pecking and scratching each other, they did not notice a smaller one duck in and snatch it way. He smiled slightly. 

Moments like these had been rare in those memories that had flooded back to him. In that time, he had always felt as though he had to constantly look over his shoulder. He had never been comfortable. He had never been able to sit down and enjoy a free moment with a friend. There had never been any free, carefree moments. Everyday, he had been in danger. 

"If it helps you to talk to someone, then... I'm glad." 

Tsuzuki glanced up at his younger partner. Hisoka was not looking at him, but the grappling pigeons. He knew by that lingering sound in his voice that Hisoka was glad for him, but it bothered him in someway. 

He had never asked, and Hisoka had never said so, but he knew that Hisoka believed that he thought he was incapable of listening to him. Hisoka thought that he saw him as unworthy of knowing. 

It wasn't true. He had just never known how to be forthcoming. Being open had gotten him burned in the past. It was an experience he hoped not to repeat. 

"Sometimes it's better to talk to someone you know, though," Tsuzuki said thoughtfully. "Because they understand better." 

He picked off a chocolate chip and tossed it to the pigeons. They gave up their search for the elusive blueberry and pounced upon the new crumb. 

"You know, in all the times I have gone to confession," Tsuzuki began, slowly, "I have never asked for forgiveness of the one person I want it from the most." 

Hisoka looked away from the pigeons. "Who?" 

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. 

"... I'll tell you." 

_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned._

_I killed the person I loved._


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Notes:** I was assuming when Tsuzuki and Tatsumi could have been partners. There was never specific time mentioned, nor how long Tatsumi had been a secretary, or any of that. So I figured sometime around the 1950's Tsuzuki and Tatsumi could have been partners. Not like it really specifically matters when, so! 

Miyazaki is a prefecture in Kyushu. 

-------

**Chapter Two**

Great things had been expected of Tatsumi Seiichirou when he had come to JuOhCho. He had scored higher than any other person on the exams every person had to take to become a Shinigami. He was known to be a charming young man, polite to a point, and extremely intelligent. Though somewhat stoic, people found him enjoyable to be around, and those in charge were delighted with his work ethic. 

And then he had been partnered up with Tsuzuki Asato. 

His work ethic had not changed, but it took him longer to get anything accomplished. A case that would have ordinarily taken him no more than two days would take two weeks. Paperwork that he had usually seen to and disposed of within the hour began to stack up, until he could hardly be seen behind his desk. He was often sleeping less, and by the looks of things, did not have a very healthy diet with all the sweets being shoved down his throat. 

He could simply not say no to Tsuzuki. 

Tsuzuki had several partners before him, three or four at least. The running joke was that Tsuzuki went through partners faster than he went through Kleenex. Either people could not put up with his antics for more than a few weeks, or he did something that made them split up with him. The last partner he had, he had nearly killed. First he had knocked them accidentally into a lake while on assignment, and when the man was in the infirmary, he had sent him flowers that he had an allergic reaction to. 

Needless to say, when Tatsumi heard that it was Tsuzuki he was partnering up with, he was less than pleased. In fact, he had flat out demanded that they not be put together, but Konoe believed that it was the best match. He claimed that if anyone could teach Tsuzuki to have a better work ethic, it was Tatsumi. 

When Tatsumi had walked into his office that morning to find Tsuzuki eating candy bars and Skittles, he began to have second thoughts about it. 

Two weeks he had been partnered with Tsuzuki. He had a feeling he was quite possibly going to go mad if things continued the way they were. 

But if there was one thing that Tatsumi prided himself on, it was that he was a patient man. Which would have meant something, if Tsuzuki was not constantly testing that patience. He was beginning to dread coming to work in the morning. 

Then he would open the door to his office, see Tsuzuki sitting there waiting for him, smiling at him, and those feelings would melt away. 

Tsuzuki was not as bad as people made him seem. True, he did go through partners faster than any other Shinigami in the Shokan Department. True, he was a glutton for trouble. True, he did never clean up after himself, and was always griping about not having enough sweets to eat. But there was more beneath the surface few were able to see. 

It was just hard to see when he was digging through his desk drawers for the bag of M&Ms he had hidden the day before. 

Tatsumi sighed. "Tsuzuki-san..." 

Tsuzuki's head popped up from behind the desk. "Ah, Tatsumi! Hi!" 

"We have an assignment," Tatsumi said. He took the manila folder he had tucked beneath his arm and held it out to Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki took it without looking, still immersed in rummaging around his desk drawers. He emerged after a moment looking triumphant, a half-melted bag of M&Ms in hand. 

With a sigh, Tatsumi settled down behind his desk. He took a folder from the multiplying stack on his desk and opened it up to continue writing a report of the last assignment he and Tsuzuki had been on. It would have been simple. They were simply to find a wanderlust soul and deliver her to where she belonged. 

As it turned out, she had a passion for art, and had not moved on because she wanted more than anything for a piece of her work to be displayed in a popular art contest. So instead of delivering her soul to where it belonged, finishing the assignment in mere hours, Tsuzuki had decided it would be better to see to it that her piece was shown, and that she received first prize. 

A one day assignment, two hours at that, had taken them four days. 

"We will be going to Miyazaki," Tatsumi said. He glanced over his glasses to see if Tsuzuki was listening to him. His partner was instead licking melted chocolate from his fingers, looking with one amethyst eye at the open folder on his desk. Chocolate was smeared across his cheek. 

"Looks messy," Tsuzuki said. "Kids doing weird things?" 

Tatsumi rose from his desk and crossed the small office to stand before Tsuzuki. "Children being possessed," he said. He reached out with one hand, gripped Tsuzuki's chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, and materialized a handkerchief from the confines of his jacket. Tsuzuki made a face not unlike a child embarrassed to have their mother cleaning their face in public. 

"No one has died yet, but while under the influence of whatever it is that is possessing their minds, they tend to do destructive things." Tatsumi folded the handkerchief and returned it to his inside jacket pocket. Tsuzuki rubbed at his cheek. 

"So," Tatsumi said, straightening his suit jacket and crossing the room back to his own desk, "we will need to find the source of the problem and eliminate it, if possible." 

"Mm." 

No longer concerned with his candy, Tsuzuki leaned over the folder, eyes narrowed as he read what little information they had been given. Three children had done strange things, out of their usual behavior, it claimed. One had slipped detergent into a glass of water anyone could have come along and drank. Another had located a book of matches and a container of gas. The entire house had burned down. The third child had tried to deliberately do something wrong; she had taken one of the butcher knifes from the knife block and tried to kill her brother. 

None of them were any older than seven years old. 

"Why would someone use children this way," Tsuzuki murmured softly. "What kind of sick person is this..." 

Tatsumi glanced up. "Tsuzuki-san?" 

Tsuzuki shook his head, and when his eyes met with Tatsumi, all traces of his disgust with the case were gone. A smile on his face, he looked as though nothing was wrong. It was a smile that would have made anyone else smile in return, but Tatsumi could only frown. He had known someone like that, someone that had been able to turn off their own feelings like a light switch, and to smile in such a way... 

He shook his head. Memories had no place within the workplace. That was what made him the devoted worker he was known to be, the man that everyone depended on. 

"Miyazaki, right?" Tsuzuki asked. "They have great cheese cake. Can we get some?" 

Tatsumi sighed softly, lifting a hand to push back his glasses. "Perhaps." 

"Really?" Tsuzuki perked up. 

"I said perhaps." 

"Perhaps is better than no." Tsuzuki beamed. 

His smile was infectious. Even Tatsumi, stoic, serious, work-driven Tatsumi, was unable to hold back the slight twitch of his lips. 

"We'll see." 

--------

In their brief time as partners, Tatsumi had learned one thing. When Tsuzuki asked for food, he fully expected food, and he would whine for hours on end before he had his food. Tatsumi had learned this the hard way and had once spent an entire day dragging Tsuzuki behind him as the other Shinigami begged and begged to have even a morsel of food. So instead of put up with that, he had a very simple tactic. He would buy Tsuzuki his food, let him scarf it down, and if he complained later in the day, he could always tell him that he had already eaten, and he should be full. 

It tended to work, most of the time. 

Once Tsuzuki had the cheese cake he had asked for, he followed Tatsumi without complaint as his partner led him through the city where the strange occurrences were happening. Tatsumi wanted to have a chance to speak to one of the children, if possible. He thought it might give them some insight on what they were dealing with. Tsuzuki did not care either way. Tatsumi was the one leading the show. 

"Na, Tatsumi," he spoke up, "are you sure you know where we're going?" 

"It's just a bit further," Tatsumi replied. 

Tsuzuki sighed. When Tatsumi said 'a bit further' he usually meant that it was another six blocks away... His feet were beginning to ache from walking so long. 

"Besides," Tatsumi said, with an inkling of amusement in his voice, "walking will help burn off those calories from that cheese cake you just devoured." 

"W-what? What's that supposed to mean?! Are you calling me fat, Tatsumi?" 

Tatsumi chuckled. "Not at all, Tsuzuki-san." 

Tsuzuki blew a raspberry at his back. Tatsumi did not seem to notice. 

"This is where one of the children lives," Tatsumi announced. 

They had rounded a corner to come to a more expansive space of the city, less packed than all of the buildings and businesses they had been passing on their way. The neighborhood was more spread out, and stood surrounding an enormous park. Being a Sunday afternoon, several children were playing there, under the watchful eyes of their parents. Tsuzuki had a feeling he and Tatsumi, dressed in their dark suits, stood out quite a bit. 

But fitting in was something Tatsumi hardly ever thought about, and unconcerned, he stepped into the park and began walking along one of the twisting, winding paths. Tsuzuki sighed and followed. 

Natsuo Ayaka was the name of the girl they were searching for. She was the child that had attempted to kill her brother. There were dozens of groups of children in the park. How they were supposed to just find one girl, Tsuzuki had no idea. If she was a spirit, that would have been easier. Shinigami had natural 'homing device' when it came to finding a spirit. Finding people that were alive was harder. 

Still, Tatsumi always managed to find them. Tsuzuki was not very surprised when he found Natsuo Ayaka out of two dozen other children. 

She was seated on a swing in the playground. A boy her age was on the swing beside her, scraping at the ground with his feet, but not bothering to try and to build up any momentum to actually swing. She simply sat there, legs pulled up, arms clutching the chains that held up the seat. Neither spoke. 

Tatsumi took a step forward. Tsuzuki held out a hand and stopped him. 

"I'll talk to them." 

Tatsumi frowned. "Tsuzuki-san..." 

Tsuzuki smiled at him. "You're no good with kids, Tatsumi. You scare them." 

"I... what?" 

Tsuzuki shook his head, barely able to contain a laugh. He made a gesture for Tatsumi to stay put, and when the other man seemed less inclined to argue, he started down the hill they stood on to the playground. The boy glanced up at him, stared for a moment, and then, unconcerned, looked away. The girl, Ayaka, did not even do so much as that. 

"Hi," Tsuzuki greeted. 

The girl did not move. The boy glanced at her, at Tsuzuki, at the girl once again, and then finally fell back on Tsuzuki. 

"Hi." 

There was a swing unoccupied beside the girl. Tsuzuki settled himself down on the seat. It was somewhat of a tight squeeze for a grown man, but he managed. Truthfully, he was more worried about the chains snapping beneath their combined weight. That would have been impossible to live down... 

"Is your friend okay?" Tsuzuki asked over Ayaka's head. 

"Her mom won't let her go home," the boy answered. 

Tsuzuki frowned. "Why not?" 

"The police are there." It was a hushed whisper. Tsuzuki thought for a moment he hadn't heard, but she then lifted her head and looked at him. 

"She says I should stay outside," she said. "Because... I shouldn't be home." 

Tsuzuki inclined his head slightly. "Why shouldn't you be home?" 

Tatsumi had started down the hill toward them. The boy noticed his movement, but neither Tsuzuki nor Ayaka seemed concerned. 

"Mom says they might take me away," she said. 

"Who?" 

"The police." She kicked at the ground with her feet, building up enough momentum to swing back and forth slowly. "I did something bad, and bad people go to jail." 

Tsuzuki shook his head. "Little kids don't go to jail." 

"But I did something really bad. I stabbed my brother." 

Tatsumi frowned, watching Tsuzuki and the child interact from where he stood alongside the swings. The girl sounded remorseful for what she had done, but there was something wrong. There was something unnerving about the way she held her gaze, something off about the tone of her voice. She knew what she had done was wrong, but she did not seem to grasp the magnitude of what that meant. 

"Why did you do that?" Tsuzuki asked gently. 

"I don't know." 

The caw of a crow had both adults and children looking up, toward its source. Tatsumi saw the enormous black bird beat its wing and lift itself from a tree that stood shading the slide. It fluttered away, becoming a distant dot on the horizon. He shook his head and looked back to Tsuzuki. 

"I think something told me to do it," Ayaka said softly. 

"Something told you to?" Tsuzuki asked. 

She nodded. "A voice." 

She looked up at him suddenly, and Tatsumi saw for a moment that she was any other ordinary child. She did not understand what she had done, but she was frightened, like any other child would be. 

"Kids really don't go to jail?" she asked Tsuzuki. 

Tsuzuki smiled at her and nodded. "Kids really don't go to jail." 

"So I'll be okay?" 

"You will." 

"You promise?" She held out her hand, pinky finger extended. "Swear." 

Bemused, Tsuzuki did not know what to do for a moment. He looked back at Tatsumi, as though seeking an answer from him, but his partner could only shrug his shoulders. 

Slowly, Tsuzuki locked pinkies. 

"I swear." 

--------

"You shouldn't make promises you don't know you can keep." 

Tsuzuki only barely glanced at Tatsumi. They were seated in a café, across from one another in a secluded booth. Tatsumi had green tea; he had a coffee. After speaking with the girl, finding she was not forthcoming with information, Tatsumi had suggested that they come to the café for a small break before they attempted another route to find the source of their problem. 

She had said only that there had been a voice that told her to do what she did. She could not explain what the voice was like, or when she had begun to hear it, because she did not know if she had in fact heard a voice. She did not know if she was imagining it, trying to place the blame on anything else, or if it was true. 

"She was scared," Tsuzuki said softly. "I wasn't going to tell her that things wouldn't be okay." 

Tatsumi set down his cup of tea. "Tsuzuki-san, you--" 

"--are too involved." Tsuzuki looked at him, gaze sharp. "I know. 'You care too much.' 'You have to separate yourself from your work.' I know, Tatsumi. But she was _scared_." 

He looked away. "I couldn't let her feel like that." 

It was the side that no one else knew. It was what only people that partnered with Tsuzuki saw. Everyone thought him a moronic waste of space, not even capable of the most simple of assignments. Capability had nothing to do with it. It had everything to do with what he felt for the people involved in the assignments. He did not see any of them as just another job. Everyone had a painful story, a reason why they did what they did. He felt something for all of them. 

His fault was that he wanted to save them. He did not want to let one person be in pain. He would have taken it all, if he could, if only to not see someone else hurting. 

He was utterly selfless. And instead of admiring that trait, Tatsumi saw it as his curse. 

"Tsuzuki-san," he began, slowly, "please do not get as involved in this as you did our last assignment." 

_You only hurt yourself in the end._

"... for your own good." 

--------

_Don't get involved. _

Just do your job, Tsuzuki. 

You feel too much. Just finish the assignment. 

None of them understood. 

Tsuzuki sighed, lifting a hand to brush a water-logged strand of hair from his face. Tatsumi had said that there was some office work he needed to do, that they would pick up from where they had left off the next morning. He could have gone with him, but Tsuzuki had remained behind. Not to continue their investigation... he just didn't want to go back to EnmaCho yet. 

The rain had started abruptly. Clouds had gathered around the sun, blanketing it, and then the rain began to fall. Most people had gone immediately to shelter to wait it out, but unconcerned with getting a little wet, Tsuzuki walked through it, hands deep in the pockets of his dark trench coat. 

They always told him that he was too involved with his work. They said that he had to let go of his own personal feelings in order to do his job as a Shinigami as well. It was no use, they said, to get involved with someone that would never be seen again. 

Yet he always did. He knew that he shouldn't, but he did, always... because it was unfair for those people that had suffered to be treated as just another assignment. Just another lost soul in the thousands. Just another person that had lived through their pre-determined life period. 

If he treated them that way, then they became nothing. What they had suffered through meant nothing. Their trials, their sorrows, nothing would have ever meant a thing. And he couldn't let people feel that way. 

Maybe he did care too much, like Tatsumi said he did. But he would rather care too much rather than not care at all. 

Sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught him off guard; something dark, just out of his line of peripheral vision had gone by, disappearing into an alley. Confused, he turned toward it, in enough time to see something -- or someone -- disappear into the darkness. 

He followed. He did not realize he was moving until he was, and soon he was running, across the street and down the sidewalk, into the alleyway. 

The dark figure was crouched at the end of the alleyway, kneeling on one knee, before a small girl. Tsuzuki recognized her at once -- it was Ayaka, the girl he had spoken to in the park. The dark figure lifted a hand to her face, touching her rain-covered cheek gently. He -- or she, or whatever it was -- was murmuring something quietly to the girl. She nodded her head, and blank-faced, began to walk away from him. 

"Hey!" 

The dark figure whirled around as Tsuzuki came barreling down the alleyway. He made a move to escape, but it was too late; Tsuzuki had caught up to him and seizing him by the shoulders. 

"You -- you're the one!" Tsuzuki exclaimed. "What are you doing to those kids?!" 

The stranger suddenly let out a burst of energy. Tsuzuki was blown backward by the force of it. He cried out as his back struck the brick wall of one of the buildings the alleyway was nestled between, and stunned by the impact, he slumped uselessly to the ground. The dark figure slowly approached him, lifting his hands to pull back the hood concealing his face. 

"You shouldn't put your nose where it doesn't belong, Shinigami." 

Thick, dark strands of hair, matted down by the rain pelting down on him, thinly veiled the pair of piercing blue eyes that stared into Tsuzuki. He was still a young man, but Tsuzuki could see, by the glare of his eyes, the lines of weariness on his face, he had seen too much in such a short span of time to not have been damaged by it. 

"You--" 

"Just leave here before you get hurt," the dark man advised, softly. "This has nothing to do with you." 

He turned away. 

"Wait!" Tsuzuki used the wall as leverage to pull himself to his feet. "Don't..." 

"I told you, it has nothing to do with you. Go away." 

"But..." 

The dark figure let out another burst of energy. Tsuzuki was thrown back into the wall once again. This time, he felt something in his back give, and he slumped uselessly to the ground. He could feel blood rising up into his mouth. 

"You _won't_ be able to save her!" 

Tsuzuki stared at him. 

"You won't," the figure repeated. "So let it go." 

He turned away and began walking. Tsuzuki watched his retreating form walk down the length of the alleyway, stop at its entrance, cast a single glance over his shoulder... and then continue on as if nothing at all had happened. 

_Let it go._

Tsuzuki put his face to his hands. 

_I can't save her..._


End file.
